


Howl

by pleasurific



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Beta-Shift Derek, Blindfolds, Breeding, Come Eating, Creampie, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Gangbang, Implied Derek/Others, Knotting, Light BDSM, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Possessive Behavior, Power Bottom, Public Sex, Sex Club, Spitroasting, Unsafe Sex, Voyeurism, accidental feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:57:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15048467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasurific/pseuds/pleasurific
Summary: When he was in New York after the fire, Derek discoveredHowl. When he came back to the city years later, he resumed his status as a regular in the club. Some days he participates, some days he watches. Today, he's watching from across the room, wanting.





	Howl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DirtyKnots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/gifts).



> Look, some people are bad influence. Like the one this fic is gifted to.

Derek doesn’t know how they both ended up in the same place. Sure, he knows how _he_ found his way into the dark and slightly seedy-looking club. It used to be his hideaway after he and Laura moved to New York, a place where she wouldn’t follow. She had to have known, but Derek didn’t dwell on it then, and he certainly hasn’t started since he came back to the city. Back to the city and back to _Howl_.

It was the name that attracted him at first, the scents that wafted out of the front door each time it opened only enticing him further. Because while the humans around don’t tend to pay much attention to the small metal plate with the club’s name, his senses very much did recognize everything.

Sweat, pheromones, arousal, and cum. The cum scent was what he found the most overwhelming, both when he walked past the door just as it happened to open and then more inside. Because _Howl_ is a sex club, a place for guys to walk in, get fucked, fuck, and then walk away.

By now, Derek knows the owner, Devon, and they’re on good enough terms that when Derek returned, he was given a warm welcome. It wasn’t like the the first time he walked in, when Devon almost personally dragged him out by the scruff of his neck, accusing him of being underage — Derek almost was, but he’d never admit to the year he added on his fake ID — and told him off for even trying.

That was the first time that Derek dropped to his knees and looked hungry enough that it convinced Devon to overlook the ID and let Derek stay. It was also the first time that Derek got what he knew he wanted before, but thought he couldn’t have — a cock in his mouth and later his own cock in a warm and eager asshole. The former was Devon’s at first, but not for long. The latter was… well, there’s a reason why Derek is now staring with his mouth open at the center of one of the booths, conveniently kitted out not with chairs and tables but soft and comfortable mattresses. Derek likes being fucked only marginally less than fucking someone, but that margin is just enough to make his dick grow rock hard at the sight in front of him.

Each of the booths is almost private, but opens into the center of the room — the exception being the _really_ private ones that Devon hands out keys to on request and for a fee — so that anyone can see and join in if they wish.

Derek usually watches at first, then finds a booth with someone appealing, or something going on that he finds interesting. Right now, the booth that _he_ can see — but is far enough from to not _be seen_ — has both. The lithe body that is all too familiar, in a position that he’s seen before, only with layers of clothes on, and a circle of equally naked guys stroking their cocks above the body. All but one.

Obscuring the view slightly, one of the men is kneeling behind the mole-dotted ass, hips pistoning back and forth, driving the pale ass forward with each stroke. Derek’s eyes see what others in the room don’t, which is how he knows the body in the booth, the room lighter to his sight than to humans. He knows the man who’s on his knees there, knows the exact position of the moles in places that are obstructed from view. He knows the short brown hair and the rosy lips, remembers the long fingers that right now must be gripping onto the sheet underneath them.

He’s only surprised that he didn’t pick up the familiar scent immediately as he walked into _Howl_. Because this most definitely _is_ Stiles getting fucked across the room, and Derek didn’t know until he laid eyes on him.

The guy fucking Stiles speeds up, his hips jerking as he comes and drives deeper into Stiles’s body and then stills as he empties his load inside Stiles’s hole. There are drips of cum seeping out when Derek finally gets his eyes on Stiles’s ass, his hole open and twitching like it wants more. It gets just that, almost immediately, with the men shuffling so the next one can line up behind Stiles. He dips a finger into Stiles’s asshole and then brings it around to Stiles’s mouth. Derek sees Stiles’s body move just enough to take in the man’s fingers, and Derek’s dick twitches as he thinks about Stiles tasting the cum that’s filling his ass.

He doesn’t have much time to think though, because the second man lines his cock up to Stiles’s hole and plunges right in, then picks up a rhythm that’s faster than the first guy’s, steady and regular. Derek takes a step closer, not taking his eyes off of the scene across the room but not daring to walk right up yet.

The second guy finishes quickly, then two more follow him and empty their loads into Stiles. They stay to watch though, almost like they’re hoping to recover for another round, but Derek isn’t paying much attention to any of them. Instead, his eyes focus on Stiles’s ass, on his curved back, his cock hanging between his legs, hard and leaking precome. The fact that Stiles is enjoying being fucked this much makes Derek’s own dick twitch with want, and he shuffles a few steps forward, close enough to be spotted by one of the guys in the booth. Their eyes meet, and Derek shakes his head in response to a raised eyebrow and a nod down at Stiles.

Not yet.

He wants to watch a little more, and he knows he’s not the only one. There aren’t many watching, it’s not one of the things that are all that unusual, but Stiles’s ass has attracted a few spectators.

When Derek tears his gaze from Stiles for a beat, he sees the ones watching, sees their hands on their hard dicks, and for the first time since his brain connected the scent, the shape, and the look of the body in that booth to Stiles, Derek thinks “ _Mine_.” But he doesn’t do anything, not when the others — those who aren’t already in the booth, shuffling to get their turn at Stiles’s ass — are just watching.

Instead, he turns his eyes back to Stiles, back to the booth where five of the seven — Derek's finally taken the time to count them — men are spent, dicks hanging limply between their thighs, but still watching. The remaining two are just moving around, shuffling, and maneuvering Stiles's body into a position between them, holding himself up instead of arching his ass up like before.

One of the two men lines up to Stiles's ass, the other moves to Stiles's face and moves his dick to Stiles's lips. Then, they start moving, in and out, one dick moving inside Stiles as the other pulls out. They're slower than any of the guys before, the strokes measured and calculated for perfect synchronization. Derek watches and strokes his own dick in sync with the men, but his grip is loose, barely there, because he doesn't want to come yet.

When the two men speed up again, clearly nearing orgasm, Derek takes a step closer, eyes drifting from Stiles to the guys around him, and then to the ones in the booth. One of them nods down at Stiles again, then raises a questioning eyebrow at Derek. Finally, Derek recognizes him as a regular from the club, someone he's seen a lot of times before, even fucked once or twice. Then, when Derek nods, the man turns to the guy next to him, whispers something in his ear, and within moments it's only the two men in the booth, one fucking into his ass, the other in his mouth.

Then the first one's hips stutter and he drives into Stiles one more time, emptying his load inside his ass. The moan that Stiles lets out — Derek can barely hear it over the club's noises — triggers the other man's release, and he shoots down Stiles's throat. The guy who got the others to leave returns to whisper in the last two men's ears, then he pulls a blindfold out of a pocket on the wall of the booth. He gently wraps it around Stiles's face, then helps him stand, come dripping from Stiles's ass and sliding down his thighs.

"Have fun," he tells Derek when he walks Stiles over, much to the chagrin of everyone who was watching.

Then he presses a key into Derek's palm and smirks.

"Devon says blue room," he adds, then walks away.

Derek nods in acknowledgment, and steers Stiles away from the main room, towards the back of the club, where the private rooms are. He knows the room that Devon gave him the keys to, it's his favorite of them all, as little as they differ from one another. But this one matches the color of his eyes and allows him to flash them without getting discovered.

Not that he has to worry about that with Stiles. Because Stiles already knows what Derek's capable of, at least a little. So there's no need to hide. And yet, Derek likes that the guy earlier thought to put the blindfold on Stiles. It adds a little to his arousal to think of how Stiles doesn't know that it's _him_ , that he's about to be fucked by someone he knows. Or knew, once upon a time.

They enter the room quietly, and something in Derek's chest lurches when he takes in how Stiles just lets himself be led. It's the same way as he took dick after dick in his ass -- no protesting, no fight, just want. There's anticipation in the air, and Derek can't quite figure out if it's his own or Stiles's.

 _Probably both_ , he thinks when he closes the door behind them.

Here, away from the noises and smells of the club, he drowns in Stiles's scent. Not just the obvious arousal, overpowering the smells of the loads of come still dripping out of his ass. There are hints of the scent that Derek recognized in the main room, the one that told him it was Stiles he saw. The same scent he tried to ignore for years, back when they were still in Beacon Hills, when Stiles was still too young, too off limits. Derek's lines were clear and unmoving, firmly on the side of the law.

That's all irrelevant now, because he's in the blue room in a club that some people would call shady, and he's about to fuck Stiles in ways he's been dreaming of for years.

There's a bed in the middle of the small space, taking up half of it. There's usually little need for anything else in here, besides the bed and the supplies in the cabinet near it. Derek knows -- even if he didn't, he could scent it -- that there's lube in the first drawer, along with condoms, then some oils and towels in the second. He's never had any need for the things in the other two drawers, but he knows there are plugs and dildos and restraints. And many more things he's usually not interested in.

When Stiles's knees hit the edge of the bed and he drops forward, propping himself up on his arms, Derek takes a moment to reconsider the various spanking implements he saw in the supply cabinet. Then he shakes his head and steps closer.

Stiles waits, doesn't move when Derek runs his hands over his skin, up and down his thighs, nor when Derek's fingers pick up the dripping come and push it back towards the open pucker of his ass. He barely reacts when Derek pushes past the ring of muscle and slips into Stiles's ass, barely meeting resistance because of earlier, when Stiles took all those dicks one after another. 

Or at least a human wouldn't notice the reaction, but Derek easily picks up on the change of Stiles's heartbeat, the way his arousal spikes. He can smell the precome dripping from the tip of Stiles's dick. He knows that Stiles hasn't come yet, that he's hard and that his cock is probably pulsing with the need for release. 

_Not yet_ , Derek thinks, though he doesn't speak the words. 

He pushes another finger in alongside the first, this time eliciting a quiet moan from Stiles's mouth. It's an addicting sound, and Derek wants to know what other things he can do to make Stiles respond the same way. And how much louder he can make those sounds. 

A third finger slips in with a little resistance -- not much, but it's not as easy as the first two were -- and Derek relishes in the moans that Stiles is now letting out with each stroke. It's the fourth finger that makes Derek wonder whether he's reached Stiles's limit. He can feel the stretch of Stiles's ass around him, the way Stiles clenches his ass and tenses. 

Derek wants to say something, but he knows that would give him away. Stiles doesn't have the stronger senses that gave Derek an advantage, but there's no way he wouldn't recognize Derek's voice. He does wonder, for a beat or two -- all while fucking Stiles with his fingers, picking up a steady rhythm -- whether it's been long enough since they saw each other, and whether there's a chance that Stiles wouldn't know him by his voice. But then he smells another burst of come as Stiles's dick lets out another spurt of precome, and that's it, Derek can't wait anymore. 

He steps forward, pulls his fingers out, watches Stiles's ass clench around nothing a few times, and then gives in to the pleading moan followed by what almost sounds like a whine. Derek lines his dick up to Stiles's ass and pushes in with one firm stroke, hips hitting Stiles's ass as he bottoms out. 

Stiles gasps, then he whispers a quiet "fuck yeah", and his ass flutters around Derek's dick. it only takes a few seconds before he starts fidgeting, pushing back to urge Derek to  _move_ , and Derek doesn't hesitate. He pulls out almost all the way, then slams back in, feeling the impact of his skin against Stiles's. 

"Fuck, yeah, like that," he hears Stiles moan over the rush of blood that's a steady hum in his ears, and Derek's resolve to keep his identity secret snaps in half. 

"Mine," he grunts against Stiles's ear when he bends forward, obviously hitting a very good angle this way because Stiles lets out a loud moan. " _Mine_." 

Stiles freezes under Derek's warm body, and his ass clenches down hard. 

"Nope. No. No fucking way. You're losing it, Stilinski. You finally went over the edge and tripped right into your daydreams," Stiles rambles quietly, his voice low enough that Derek knows it's his werewolf hearing that makes it possible for him to understand the words. 

"Daydream about me often, Stiles?" 

The question is meant to be teasing, but Derek doesn't miss the hint of hope that has made its way into his tone. 

"Derek?" Stiles asks a little louder, but still too quietly for human ears. 

"Depends," Derek says. 

"On what?" Stiles asks, his scent laced with a mix of hope and anxiety. 

"On whether you've been hoping it's me," Derek whispers into his ear, and the response is unmistakably positive. 

"I've wanted every guy out there to be Derek," Stiles says, speaking quietly like he's testing whether whoever has their dick in him is a werewolf. "I've wanted him for longer than I can remember." 

"Stiles," Derek says with the next exhale, and he pulls his dick out only to slam it back in again. 

"I want to see," Stiles mumbles.

Derek lifts his torso up and reaches to pull off the blindfold, then leans forward again, his dick pulsing with the need to fuck Stiles as hard as he can without breaking him. Beneath him, Stiles twists just enough to look at Derek's face. He clenches around Derek's cock when his suspicions and hopes are confirmed, then tenses. 

"You watched me," he says, voice dripping with what seems like awe and surprise. "Earlier, in the club. You were watching me when..." 

Derek interrupts him with another stroke of his dick, hard enough that his hips slap loudly against Stiles's ass. 

"I did," he says. "I watched you take all those dicks like you couldn't get enough. Like none of them were what you needed." 

Stiles drops his head down, moans, and arches his back, making Derek's cock slip a tiny bit deeper. 

"Fuck," comes out of Stiles's mouth, followed by a quick "fuck yeah" when Derek lifts up and puts his hands on Stiles's waist, pulling him closer. 

After that, the room is only filled with Derek's grunts, the slapping of skin, and Stiles's increasingly loud moans. Derek would stop to wonder how Stiles hasn't come yet, having been fucked for who knows how long before they came here, but he's too busy trying to hold off his own orgasm. He can feel his balls drawing tight, his dick enveloped in the heat of Stiles's ass and squeezed on every stroke out -- it's like Stiles doesn't want him to leave; like he wants Derek to shove his cock deeper. 

Stiles's ass is up and his back bent, his arms folded and his forehead is resting on top of them. Then he moves, twists around until he's looking at Derek again. And Derek would focus on the blissed-out expression on Stiles's face, but he can't. He can't because the way Stiles is turned is stretching the muscles on his neck, showing the length of it in a way that, were Stiles to turn just a little more, would definitely look like he's presenting it for a bite. 

Derek's face changes at that thought, and he only just manages to pull his hands away from Stiles's hips before his claws come out. 

"Oh holy shit, yes," Stiles breathes out, eyes wide and lips parted as he watches Derek's shifted face. 

Derek is frozen mid-movement though, unsure despite Stiles's enthusiastic response to his shift. It's not because he'd be worried about Stiles accepting him this way -- it's clear that that isn't an issue. The problem is a little bit further down, and Derek pulls his hips backwards, slides his dick out of Stiles's ass. 

He can feel it though, he's highly aware of the swell that's forming close to the base of his cock, his skin stretching more than usual. 

"No, where are you going?" Stiles asks, moving one arm to bat at his side and his fingertips brush against the sensitive skin on Derek's hip. "Please? Come back." 

It's the most that Stiles has given away in words how much he wants Derek, how much he wants to be filled. 

"I can't... I have..." 

Stiles pauses, stops trying to reach Derek to pull him back in, and he twists his neck some more as he lifts his chest up off the bed. His eyes drop down to Derek's waist, to his cock, and then he looks back up at his face. 

"So you're... wolf everywhere?" 

Derek closes his eyes, then opens them, and he's met with Stiles's curious -- and somehow still  _wanting_  - expression. 

"Not like when I'm fully shifted," Derek mutters. 

There's something that flashes across Stiles's face, something that Derek's in no state to think about. Not yet. He doesn't have time anyway, because Stiles's eyes are still wide and searching for answers in Derek's face. 

"So only some of you is..." he starts, gaze dropping down to where their hips are still precariously close. "Oh wow." 

"Good or bad wow?" Derek asks, and he would regret blurting the question out, but he's too busy watching how Stiles's face brightens. 

"Good. Oh fuck,  _good_." 

Derek’s cock pulses at the tone of Stiles’s voice, and it’s only a miracle that he manages to keep his hips almost still. Not entirely though, they inch forward a little, just enough for the head of his dick to brush against Stiles’s puckered hole, and it sends a shiver down his spine. Then he feels the gentle flutter of Stiles’s ass against his sensitive head, feels it opening and closing without having to look at it. 

“Please?” Stiles says quietly, and Derek…

…Derek’s resolve breaks, his hips move without his own volition, making his cock slide right back into Stiles. It’s a slow movement, measured, still hesitant even as he can feel it swelling when it’s enveloped in Stiles’s heat again. The skin feels tense around the base of his cock, stretches in ways it hasn’t in a long time, and when the knot hits the ring of muscle, he pauses. It’s not unbearably big, he knows that, but it’s there, and its width is enough to stop the slide of his cock all the way in. 

Stiles has bent down again, head rested on his arms, breathing ragged, heartbeat erratic and fast, but Derek doesn’t smell fear or worry, only more want. He lets go of Stiles’s hip and brushes his ass as he moves his fingers to where his cock is stretching Stiles’s ass open. 

For a few beats Derek doesn’t move, only feels the way Stiles is squeezing and relaxing his ass around his cock. Then he runs the tip of his finger — claws carefully retracted — around the stretched skin just below his pulsing knot. 

“Are you sure?” Derek asks, voice rough and his own heartbeat unsteady. 

He’s pretty sure he _could_ pull away, could keep his dick only as far as it is now. But the urge to press in — to lock inside Stiles’s ass and pump his come into him — is so strong, Derek knows that his eyes are bright blue and flickering. He knows that he needs to ask _now_ , needs to know where the line is, because if he waits any longer, his control is going to shatter into pieces. 

“Yes,” Stiles says, loud and clear, with no hesitation, no change in his heartbeat. 

Derek’s resolve does crumble then, and his hips jolt forward, pushing the growing knot past Stiles’s rim in one firm stroke. Once he feels the warmth around it — and it’s so much _more_ than he’s ever felt before — he also feels it growing, expanding again. He tries to move back, to see if he can still pull out, but it catches at the rim of Stiles’s ass, and then there’s pressure around it as Stiles clenches to hold the knot in, a whine escaping both their lips. 

Derek grinds his hips against Stiles, knot now firmly locked in his hole, and it only takes one more clench of Stiles’s muscles around it to tip Derek over the edge. The knot pulses as Derek’s come spurts out — he can barely feel it, but he _can_ feel his dick throbbing as he comes — and fills Stiles up. He doesn’t notice anything around him at first, too busy watching the stars behind his closed eyelids as his whole body tenses with the strength of his climax. 

It’s only when the strongest wave fades a little, and Derek’s only shuddering through the aftershocks, that he hears the panting that’s coming from Stiles’s mouth. Derek reaches around Stiles’s hips to reach for his dick and finds it soft, come still dripping from the tip.

“Did you just…” Derek says, partly shocked, partly in awe. 

“Come on your knot in my ass? Yeah,” Stiles says, breathing heavily. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he adds, making Derek see stars again when he clenches around the still throbbing dick locked inside his hole. “I wonder if I could get it up again, before you’re done.”

Derek whimpers — he’s not even able to try and pretend it didn’t happen — and grinds against Stiles’s ass again, another throb rocking his dick. 

"Yeah," Stiles mumbles. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's a thing that's going to happen. Fuck, I feel so full. More than before..." 

He doesn't finish the sentence, because Derek growls, his fangs dropping again. His claws only just miss Stiles's skin as he pulls them away. There's no way to leave completely because his dick is still swollen at the base and locked inside Stiles's ass. And he doesn't  _want_  to move away, but he doesn't want to hurt Stiles either. 

The thought of earlier, of when Stiles's ass was filled with all those other cocks, when it wasn't Derek's own come filling him up -- that thought makes Derek want to erase all those other scents, make Stiles  _his_  inside and out. From the way Stiles moans when Derek's dick spurts another load into him, there's a fair chance that Stiles would be on board with it. But then Derek remembers how blissed out Stiles looked just before they headed into this room.

"Your dick's just what I needed," Derek hears Stiles say, interrupting the unpleasant thoughts that are roaming in his mind. "Never thought I'd find someone to fill me like this. Better than all those guys before."

That's the line that makes Derek's control snap -- again. He moves, dropping his hands by Stiles's elbows, his body pressed firmly against the pale one underneath him, and he grinds his hips again, his knot tugging on Stiles's rim and resulting in a whimper slipping from Stiles's lips.

"No more others," he whispers in Stiles's ear. "Just me. Wanna fill you up until you don't think you can hold anymore. Wanna breed you up, keep you full with my come or my dick all the time."

Stiles clenches around Derek's cock and lets out a litany of agreements and approvals, all muffled by the pillow that he seems to be biting. Derek grins, grinds his hips again, and then takes a deep breath. There's the smell of come everywhere, sweat, the scent of Stiles's skin and shampoo right under Derek's nose. Only a faint trace of the other men's come and their scent remains, and Derek's sure he can get rid of that soon. He wonders how soon he can pull out and then rub his own come all over Stiles's skin, until there's nothing left but the mixture of  _them_ , of his own scent mixed with Stiles's. 

He whispers all that into Stiles's ear while his hand finds the already filling cock that he slaps Stiles's own hand from. 

"I'm gonna fuck you until you can't take anymore," Derek mutters, hand stroking Stiles's dick to fullness. "I'm gonna fill you up and then when you're spent, I'll stay inside you for the rest of the night, my dick locked in your ass so that all the come stays in." 

Stiles's whimper is quickly followed by a moan when Derek's fingers slide over his leaking cockhead, another throb of Derek's dick making them both shudder. 

"'m glad you were here tonight," Stiles mumbles. "Was hoping that you'd show one day."

Derek pauses, the words registering in his mind slowly through the haze of arousal. 

"Did you know I come here?" 

Stiles hums instead of an answer, but it's affirmative. 

"How."

"Found a matchbook years ago, before everything. Before you moved." 

Derek remembers when the pack helped him put everything he owned into boxes that he then shipped here, to New York. He hadn't realized that he had something that would allow anyone to track him to _Howl_. Of course, if there was anyone who could, it had to be Stiles. 

"Wanted you then," Stiles says, and it's barely audible this time. 

His heart rate is spiking, and Derek continues grinding his hips while he's stroking Stiles's cock at the same pace. He feels it throb under his fingers, and neither of them speaks while Stiles's body is trembling with the impending climax. When he comes, his ass is like a vice around Derek's dick, squeezing yet another spurt of come out of it while Derek's fingers get coated with Stiles's own. 

"'s aw'sme," Stiles mumbles, sounding more pleased and blissful than Derek ever thought he'd see him be. "y're aw'sme."

"You too," Derek says, a little less spent than Stiles obviously is. 

Carefully, he moves them both so he doesn't hurt Stiles too much while getting him away from the puddle of come on the sheets. His knot is showing no signs of deflating yet, and Derek doesn't have enough experience to know how long it will last.

"Sleep now," he whispers, chest pressed against Stiles's back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, I'm on [tumblr](http://pleasurific.tumblr.com/) too.


End file.
